


It May Be Wrong, But It's Our Kind Of Right

by capirony



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, care, general sappiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capirony/pseuds/capirony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just general Bro/Dave morning fluff with a lot of cuddles-- Bro's perspective</p>
            </blockquote>





	It May Be Wrong, But It's Our Kind Of Right

**Author's Note:**

> i like writing boys that cuddle

You come home tired and unhappy. The past few hours were rad, of course, but it gets exhausting too fast and you're longing for a couple hours sleep in your comfortable cozy bed at home before the night is through. You play your beats and you rock the night with your sound and you make people happy while making a good enough amount of money and that's cool. It's what you have to do when sales from your other job aren't racking in as quickly as they should; and you need to pay for things, important things, so you tire yourself out to make those extra bucks when you can.

But now you're at home and all you want to do it curl up on your bed, maybe watch a movie or some porn before completely blanking out for the night. Before you've made up your mind you're already drifting off still in your club clothes.

When you wake up it's lazy and slow. You feel fuzzy and so very warm; there's arms around you and you sink into that familiar body. The other hums into your hair and kisses your forehead and you realize that he's gone through the trouble of undressing you before tucking you both into bed for the night. You don't want to open your eyes just yet, but you can tell by the lack of light that it's either still nighttime or he's just pulled the blinds up to shut out the light and make pretend that it's still night, just for you.

You press your lips to his neck and you feel him shudder. The lips on your forehead quirk into a smirk; his version of a soft smile only you would understand. Your legs are tangled together and you wonder for a moment if that was your doing or his, and then you realize you don't fucking care and just enjoy the feeling of closeness with this boy. You whisper, asking for the time and he responds just as quietly telling you to shush and to go back to sleep.

"'S still dark out. Sleep more, Bro."

You nod, pushing yourself further into him. He retaliates by holding you close, so fucking close you couldn't fit a record flat in between the two of you. God he's so warm and you're so fucking cold. Always cold, always alone. And then there's this asshole, warm and inviting and nice and so full of emotion. You kiss his neck again, soft, sweet. His hand runs up and down your naked back, the blankets covering the two of you rustling against the movement. He shushes you again, nuzzling against your head, and does something he hasn't for a while.

He hums to you.

It's not a song you recognize and of course it wouldn't be; this boy is a musical genius, an artist of many talents. He's humming a song of his own creation, one he no doubt is making up in his head, the lyrics probably forming as he goes. He makes you so fucking proud and you can only selfishly suck it all up, silently, unable to tell the boy properly just how proud you are. 

You fall asleep when he starts to sing.

The second time you wake its to the sounds of birds. It's the crows, a downside to being so high up in the apartment complex. They're all over the roof, but you can't complain because they make for such good dramatics when you and him strife together. And they're his favorite animal, so there's that.

He's still holding you, a little looser, a little less tangled, but you're still together and he's still there so you count that as a success. You don't want to wake up but the sunlight is screaming and you might have to take a piss you can't really tell. When you finally open your eyes you are faced with a messy haired, open mouthed little albino boy, arms extended towards you, wrapped around your neck, face only inches away from your own. Oh how fucking easy it would be to wake him with a kiss, to take him, to make lazy morning love with him. You locate one of your own hands and run tired fingers through his hair, the soft morning haze making him glow even more than before. He's so bright, a literal and metaphorical beacon in your life and you couldn't be happier. Sure you could have a bigger home, you could have fancier cars, you could be making millions, but instead you kept this little guy around and you helped him through life and you accidentally fell in love. 

You wouldn't trade this life for the world.

After little consideration, you press a gentle kiss to his lips and then exit the bed. Being a heavy sleeper, he doesn't wake but merely shifts a bit, his nose scrunching up irritably albeit adorably in response to the untangling of limbs. You figure you should probably go shower and maybe if he's still asleep when you're done you'll make him some pancakes. That'd be good. Standing in the doorway, you look back. 

He's sprawled, and you watch as he rolls over, curling into the spot where you just were, you hear a soft sigh followed by a snore and you want to go back and hold him and never leave that bed. His white hair is a mess and you can only imagine the way he'll bitch about the bedhead later, but there's the smallest of smiles on his face and it's so perfect and real and your breath is taken away at the sight of him.

Yeah, you think, you wouldn't trade Dave for the world.


End file.
